


Second Law Of Thermodynamics

by Makedon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (just between Oliver and Laurel), Canon Compliant Cheating, Canon Divergence - Pre-Lian Yu (Arrow TV 2012), Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makedon/pseuds/Makedon
Summary: What if Barry and Oliver met before the particle-accelerator, before Lian-Yu, while Oliver was still a party boy, and Barry in the middle of college?
Relationships: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (just at the start)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, full disclosure, this is the first fic im actually uploading. Im planning to make it a long one, so i hope you will join me for that ride.
> 
> And with that, have fun reading. :)
> 
> (thanks to @Ballycastle_Bat for all his help.)

Central is one of the most boring cities to ever exist, Oliver has decided. After living in Starling his whole life, he has been in every single club that was even worth his time there, lots of times. It had started to bore him, the same places, the same overpriced drinks, the same girls throwing themselves at him (and more recently, even a guy here and there).

But then he had realized, he’s rich as fuck (well, more like his father is the one with the money, not that it matters in his mind at all), with multiple private jets at his disposal. His father was far too busy to even notice if one of them was missing for a couple of days, and the handsome sum he paid one of the pilots made sure that it wouldn’t really be reported.   
  
Of course he knows that his parents are still aware of his joy trips around the states, no matter how much he tries to hide it. But they have long ago given up to police his behaviour. Now they have an uneasy truce, as long as he's not involved in any major scandals.   
  
Which he actually manages to do, 95% of the time.   
  
So for the last few weeks he’s been cruising around the states, mostly with Tommy, rarely with Laurel. After all, she was one of the reasons he was even partying excessively, even for his standards. Just trying to push away the growing commitment of his relationship with her. He does love her, he really does, but he just can’t handle a relationship of that calibre.

So, he had started to sleep around again.   
  
He did feel bad about it, but that's what the drugs and alcohol are for, to just let him forget all those unimportant concerns. He doesn’t even remember most of the hook-ups, an enticing redhead in Coast City, and a threesome with a very open couple in New York standing out.   
  
But right now, being in Central City, there’s no one that even piques his interest, even though he is at the opening of the new “hot club”, which name he can’t even remember anymore. It was something like Tremor, or maybe The Vibe? Not that it really matters, by now they all feel the same to him. He has to admit, at least they tried to be different, with the whole Sci-Fi thing they were trying to emulate. But it also meant that the weird futuristic couch in the VIP-section that he was sitting on right now is one of the most uncomfortable ones he has ever been on in a club.   
  
Normally, he would join Tommy on the dancefloor, letting loose and getting drunk, just letting his body take over his actions. But for some reason he instead sits on the outliers, drinking a suspiciously green drink, and watching his best friend try to pick up some random chick.   
  
He just wasn’t feeling it tonight, his mind being heavy with unwelcome thoughts. In Starling, he would just hit up one of the numerous drug dealers, buy some overpriced merchandise, and forget all his worries in minutes. But this is Central, a city that seemed so squeaky clean it was almost disgusting. His chances of finding anything here were not very high.    
  
Sighing, he threw back the rest of his acidic drink, slightly recoiling at the taste. He has no idea what it even was, just something a tired looking bartender handed to him when he ordered something that will “fuck him up”. Evidently, it didn’t, or at least not enough, because his mind was still clear enough to feel guilty.

Damn, Oliver really had to get out here, the loud music and oppressive heat starting to give him a headache. He had no idea why, usually this was his world, but today it just made him feel sick and annoyed. His feet didn't want to fully collaborate with him when he was trying to stand up, the drink from earlier now hitting him harder than he expected. Still, he forced himself to stand up, and starts tumbling across the dancefloor, managing to not crash against too many people.   
  
Tommy was nowhere to be found, which means he either finally got lucky, or was just grinding against someone somewhere in the sea of bodies, invisible to Oliver. It doesn’t matter either way, he wasn’t here, and the slight headache has now evolved into full on pounding between his ears. He just needed to get out, but the thought of having to go right through the dancing crowd to the main exit just made his head throb more. 

But that's when he noticed there was a small fire exit, right next to the bar, only a couple of feet away from him. Relieved that he was spared of having to force himself through sweaty bodies, he took long, striding steps towards it. A bartender noticed what he was going to do, and was probably about to stop him. But one look from Oliver Queen, apparently as famous in Central City as he was at home, made the bartender’s mouth snap shut, and go back to his making drinks.   
  
Oliver doesn’t really care either way, even if that guy would have tried to stop him, he would have just used the door anyway. Opening it, he could already feel the cold night air, not really able to see anything while still in the far too bright club. Stepping outside, he realized that he’s in some kind of dingy back alley, trash cans to his left, and a flickering street lamp above him, barely illuminating anything after the heavy door slammed shut behind him.

But somehow, he still vastly preferred being out here next to smelly garbage, than being back in the club, at least for now. After checking that the wall wasn’t too disgusting (barely), he leaned his weight against it, finally being able to breath, but still feeling like shit.   
  
All of a sudden, he heard a sound coming from his left, his eyes immediately checking for the source of it. It wouldn’t be the first time an overeager paparazzi followed him to a place like this, and he was almost looking forward to letting some of his frustrations out on some nosy bloodsucker of a reporter.   
  
But instead of a camera, he found someone trying to hide, a big trench coat obscuring most of their features. Oliver was intrigued, not feeling like he was in any danger at all. The figure realized that they couldn’t escape, looking Oliver in the eye with a fearful look. It was a haggard man, with sunken in eyes that kept darting around, like he was looking for threats, or maybe something else. After a few seconds, they fully focused on Oliver, seeming to gauge him out.   
  
“Are you here for the stuff?”, the man finally said with a shot voice, still looking at everything but Olivers eyes.   
  
“Stuff? What stuff?” Wow, his words were sounding a lot more slurred than he expected them to. What the hell was in cocktail he drank.    
  
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. The man’s face immediately closed off, and he started to try to escape the narrow alleyway.   
  
Finally, it all clicked in Oliver’s drunk mind, he knew exactly who this person was. Maybe he would his hands on some good drugs after all.   
  
He grabbed the other man's shoulder, stopping his escape. He tried to shake him off, but Oliver’s countless hours in the gym made him deceptively strong.   
  
Before the supposed drug dealer started to panic, Oliver let him go, turning him back around to face him first.   
  
“Actually yes, i am here for the ‘stuff’.” He had no idea what the man was even selling, but he already took almost every party drug there was, there’s nothing that could surprise him anymore.   
  
The man looked around for one last time, making sure there were alone, before covertly reaching into his coat pocket, retrieving a clear bag with some pills inside.   
  
“100 for one, 500 for the whole bag. Don’t take more than one at a time if you want to live. Best high you’ll ever get, works in seconds,” the man rattles off mechanically.   
  
Oliver almost laughs at the terrible attempt at selling, especially with drugs that are so overpriced. But he can afford it, he’s a Queen after all. So he takes out his money, making sure the man doesnt see how stacked he is. He made that mistake once, and instead of giving him drugs the dealer back then tried to rob him. Of course, Oliver had fend him off, but since then he made sure to not just show his wads of cash for everyone to see.

Oliver holds up two 100$ Bills, waiting for the man to retrieve 2 pills from the bag, before they exchange them with studied movements.

If Oliver was more sober, he probably would have been a bit more hesitant to just take something he got a shifty dude behind a club, But he wasn’t, and so he just took the unsuspicious pills up to his lips, letting only one fall into his mouth. It tasted acrid, but it dissolved quickly.   
  
“So, how long does it take for it to…”   
  
And that’s the last thing Oliver remembered that night.

  
  


Barry Allen was finally finishing up another long night at the lab, clearing up all the beakers and solutions he used. He groaned when he took a quick look at the clock, it being far past 1 AM. He promised Iris that he would try to at least somewhat come home on time, but he just can’t help himself. Ever since Professor Fabbietta approached him with the opportunity of an extracurricular activity, where he would be able to use the faculties to their full extent, he had spent almost everyday in the lab, trying to optimize all kinds of solutions, even dabbling in some DNA-Bioengineering. He was loving every second of it, feeling like a kid that just got his first chemistry set.   
  
But it did take a toll on him, the long nights and early mornings already cutting into his normal studies, his free time almost nonexistent. He was lucky that Joe agreed to let him live back at home while he was busy doing it, so he didn’t have to worry about laundry and making food and all the things adults normally have to do. But still, Iris had noticed how tired he always was, and made him promise to at least try to take it easy. A promise he was not able to hold, at least today.

Finally, he had cleaned up everything, quickly grabbing his bag and jacket, before turning off all the lights, and locking all the doors (He even got his own keys for the labs, how cool is that!). Double-checking if he missed anything, he was sure that everything was in place. And so, he started to leisurely walk home.   
  
When he was halfway back to Joe’s house, walking besides the almost abandoned Main street, he remembered that he should probably check his phone. He winced after he unlocked it, seeing 5 missed messages from Iris. At least Joe was out of town for a police development course, so he only had one disappointed West to deal with. He dreaded reading the messages, but ignoring would only make it worse.

Iris<3: I'm gonna make some lasagne, you better be home quick if you want to eat it warm   
Iris<3: Alright, it’s almost done, you close to home?

Iris<3: Bear?

Iris<3: Seriously, again?

Iris<3: I’m gonna go sleepover at Kate’s house, the rest of the lasagne is in the oven.

Barry winced again at the obvious coldness in the last message, he knew he fucked up. He knows Iris doesn’t like sleeping alone in an empty house, and he did say he would be there. Even thought Iris was most likely already asleep, he still send a text back, just to show that he wasn’t actually ignoring her.   
  
Barry: Iris, i’m so sorry, I got sucked into lab work again. We can have a movie night tomorrow instead?

I will buy that caramel popcorn you love so much <3.

That will probably be enough to make iris forgive him, she can’t really stay mad at him for long, since he always tries to make it up to her. Pocketing his phone, he resumes on his walk home, taking in Central City at night time. It really is kind of beautiful, in a way. The normally very busy and hectic Main Street, was eerily quiet, the streetlights giving it an almost otherworldly appeal. He really did this city, even with all the negative events in the past; it was still his city, and he was proud of it.   
  
Which is why he felt a pang of annoyance when he noticed that someone just left their trash bag in the middle of the street. No car has driven over it yet, but it was only a matter of time, making it a risk Barry just can’t ignore. Sighing, he walked over the empty street towards it, making sure first that no car was anywhere near. With the light being so bad, he can’t really fully see it, but for a second he could have sworn that it moved. Oh god, what if there was racoons? He doesn’t know how to deal with racoons!

Hoping he just imagined it, he finally came close enough to illuminate the bag with his phone flash light.

Barry froze in place, taking in the sight in front of him.

Instead of the garbage bag he expected, there was a man lying on the street, facedown, in his underwear, slowly shifting and mumbling. He could see that whoever this was, he had a very eventful night, marks and scraped skin all over his body.   
  
And of course, that's when his phone decided to run out of battery, showering the stranger in darkness again.

Barry could feel the panic rising inside him, his mind running in circles. What is he supposed to do in a case like this? Well, he would just call an ambulance, but that’s not an option anymore. The hospital is on the other side of town, and the closest place he could go was where he was already going, his own house. There, he could try to find out what's wrong with this person, and maybe help him.

But he still has to get the stranger there first. The almost naked stranger, that he would have to carry for at least 20 minutes. Barry groaned internally, how was this his life? For a second, he thought about just walking away, forgetting he ever saw anything. But he knew, he could never do that, be the kind of person that just walks away from someone that needs help.

So, he inched closer, with caution, expecting the man to just jump up at any second. But the stranger was still just laying face down on the pavement, making sounds that almost sounds like a distressed kitten mewling. If Barry wasn’t so stressed out by everything, he would have found it adorable. 

Now he was standing right above him, being able to see his body at least somewhat. The man’s back looked very muscular, and a quick look down affirmed, that the lower parts are not any less. Fighting a blush, Barry desperately thought about what to do next.   
  
“Hello? Are you okay?” Yes Barry, cause people that lay face down in the middle of street are probably just fine, just relaxing. At least the man didn’t seem to hear him, having no reaction whatsoever.    
  
Steeling himself, he kneeled down, and reached out with his hand. After hesitating for a second, he grabs the man’s very firm shoulder (Good god, what does this dude eat?), shaking it furiously.   
  
“Can you… hear me? Do you need help?” The only answer he got was a long drawn out groan, which probably just means that yes, this man does need help.    
  
Barry, feeling his own panic slowly take over, mentally took one step back, assessing the situation from a practical standpoint: he had no way to call for help, no one anywhere near him, and no way to get to the hospital. And with his body, there’s no chance that he can carry him all the way to the hospital, he would just break down before ever reaching it. Reaching his own house on the hand…

Making a final decision, he knows the only right way of action is carrying this strange man to his house, where he can help him with medical supplies. After all, studying to become a CSI required some medical courses, so he knows enough to help someone with an overdose. Well, he assumed that was the case, from the clouded state of mind, excessive sweating, and shivering the person is exhibiting.

Now, the only problem was actually getting 180 pound of muscle (estimated of course) to his place. Wow, this will be the first time that the fire drill Joe made him and Iris do would actually be useful. He still remembers how he had to fireman carry Iris once around. Of course, he mostly remembers deep embarrassment,, and the overwhelming fear of touching anything he shouldn't be touching. But, he still knows how to do it, and that is the important part,

Belatedly, he realized that he has just been staring at the man for a full minute now, lost in his thoughts, when he should be checking if the man was even fit to be carried, if the airways were blocked, or literally any of the things he learned in his first aid class. Alright, he thought to himself, one thing after another.   
  
First, move the patient into a stable position. He tried to gently get the man to lay on his back, but after struggling for some seconds, without result, he used too much, and the man just flopped on his back, with an audible whump. Barry cringes, hoping he didn't fuck the stranger up even more than he already was. But still, it worked, the man now squarely on his back, close enough to a stable position as he could.

Next, he needed to check if the man could breath. He started to reach up to the man’s face with his fingers, freezing when he actually got a good look of his features, however obscured they are by the darkness. This guy looked good enough to be a model (if there weren’t still remnants of bard around his mouth), could he be someone famous? Barry never really kept up with that kind of stuff, only sometimes getting a glance into one of Irises magazines. This guy did look somewhat familiar, but Barry has no idea from what.   
  
More importantly anyway, he had to make sure that they guy wasn't gonna choke on his own vomit. Getting his water bottle and some wipes from his Backpack. Holding up the back of the head, he gingerly pours a small amount of water over the lips and below the nose, cleaning up the worst of it, before dabbing around it with the tissues. Content with his work, he was about to pack the bottle away again, before realizing that dehydration could also be a problem. But that would require the man to actually cooperate, which seems impossible given his current state. 

Still, he had to at least try. Kneeling back down, he unscrewed the bottle, and hesitated on what to do next. Should he just hold it to his lips, and hope he subconsciously starts drinking? Or tell the man first?   
  
“If you can hear me, I will hold a bottle to your lips, drink it if you can.” And with that, he did exactly what he said, carefully letting the water spill on the dried lips. At first it seemed like it would just run meet closed lips, but after a few seconds the lips part, and he could hear deep gulps. Relieved, he kept holding the bottle, slowly raising it until it was halfway empty, at which point the man started coughing, so he quickly removed the bottle, before the man would start choking.   
  
‘How is this happening to me”, Barry thought to himself for not the first time tonight. There was nothing else he could think he could do right now, so how was the hard part: having to carry an adult, in shape male for who knows how long. But there was just no other way.   
  
Turning the man back face down as gentle as possible, he got into the starting position for the fireman carry, as best as he could remember that is. After kneeling down in front, he grabbed the man with both arms under his shoulder, slowly dragging him up against his body. What he failed to realize before, this meant that the man’s very well defined chest was now rubbing against the entire length of his body. While trying to suppress his blush, he reminded himself that this was all necessary to help him.    
  
Finally, they were now on the same level, Barry being able to smell the pungent odour of alcohol or other substances still coming from the other mouth. Now the final test: leaning down, he draped the strangers arm around the back of his neck, pulling until he could feel the broad chest against his shoulderblades. Huh, not as heavy as Barry feared he would be. Now fully upright again, he made sure that everything was secure, no danger of slipping anywhere. (God, that would be terrible, if while he was trying to help, he would just give the man a concussion as well by dropping him. Does Not help anyone if he stresses himself out about it right now though.)

And so, Barry started his long march home again, now with an extra burden on him.

  
  
  


He was finally able to see his house, feeling immense relief. The sounds of his panting was filling the quiet night, his forehead covered in sweat. All in all, it went better than expected: he only almost dropped him twice, and tripped 3 times. Barry felt like he couldn't take another step, but he’s been feeling that way for the last 5 minutes, so he just presses on, the door now so tantalizingly close. With a lot of effort and grunting, he managed to wrangle his keys out of his pocket, the key unlocking being the sweetest sound he has heard in a while.    
  
But his happiness was cut short, after he managed to turn on the lights, now staring at the stairs that were the last obstacle between him and his own bed. He longingly looks over at the couch, debating just dropping off his guest there. But he knows that not end well, not for the man who still needed some medical attention, nor him when Joe asks him why the couch smells like a rave.    
  
With a sigh, he went on the first step of the stairs, and regretted that he never started working out like he planned to. He could already feel his vision starting to blur from exhaustion, but he was so, so close. Just 10 little steps, and he would be there. Barry Allen is not a quitter after all, and that thought gave him the last bit of energy he needed to start climbing. Step after step, he trudged himself upstairs, feeling like he was about to die. But still, he wouldn't give up, until finally reaching the second floor.

The last few steps to his room and bed were almost easy in comparison, and with one last push, he heaved the still unconscious body on there, before breaking down on the floor, his legs basically jelly.

Even though he wanted to make sure the other man was alright, there is no way in hell he can even stand up right now.

‘I’m just gonna take a short break, to catch my breath, just a couple of minutes’ Barry rationalised to himself, before letting his eyes fall shut, immediately going into a deep slumber.

  
  


He was woken up rudely by someone shaking him, his whole body aching from sleeping while just leaning against the bed. Barry tried to bat away the offending hand, wanting to just get a bit more sleep, but when an unfamiliar voice started talking, his eyes shot open.   
  
“Hey you, creepy kidnapper, what the fuck did you do with my clothes.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to have more plot progression in this chapter, but it kinda ran way from me, and i didnt want to make it too long. Expect more soon!

Oliver hated hangovers.

He should be used to them by now, really, having them basically every week. But the one he was having right now was especially bad. His mouth was filled with cotton, there was a jackhammer going between his ears, and his limbs felt like they were made out of lead.

But although he never stopped hating hangovers, he knows by now how to deal with them: a cold shower, gallons of water, and a greasy breakfast. Only problem was, for all of those things he would have to stand up, and that seemed utterly impossible at the moment.

So he just kept laying on the bed, eyes screwed shut, feeling absolutely miserable. After what felt like an hour, he felt he had enough energy to open his eyes, which he slowly did. The sunlight felt like knives, but after a while it got bearable, now staring at a white ceiling. Oliver was just mindlessly looking at it, willing himself to not feel like absolute shit, when he remembered that his bed at home is a four poster bed, which can only mean that he’s not in his own bed right now.   
  
Now, that was also nothing unusual, since a lot of his nights ended in one-night-stands. But normally, he remembers at least parts of them. Actually, thinking about it, he can’t remember anything from last night! He tried to think hard, trying to remember anything, which was a mistake, the pounding in his head returning in full form. He let out a pain filled groan, which only made the feeling worse.   
  
God, when was the last time he was feeling this bad? Oliver knows exactly how much he can drink without feeling like absolute shit in the next morning, but apparently the Oliver from last night did not care at all. He hated that guy, fucking jackass. Now HE has to pay the price for his past selves mistake, how was that fair? Of course, Oliver didn’t know how stupid that sounded his mind still pretty much half gone.   
  
Just laying on this pretty uncomfortable wasn’t helping him at all, he knew that. And with what felt like gargantuan effort, he sat up, his elbows resting on his legs. Blinking rapidly to get rid of the stars in his eyes, he was now looking at a very unfamiliar room. What kind of person had a fucking poster of the periodic table, just hanging right in front of their bed? God, did he sleep with a nerd? He could even see model rockets, what the hell.   
  
But that when his bladder decided to alert him that he was about to piss, no matter if he found a toilet in the next 10 seconds or not. Not wanting to just urinate in someone else’s bed (again), he forced himself to turn to the side, his legs hanging off the bed now. He hadn’t felt anyone next to him in the bed, so he had thought he was alone.

But right there, leaning on his side of the bed while sitting on the ground, snored a young looking man. And from the t-shirt featuring comic characters very prominently, he assumed this was the nerd the room belonged to.

After standing up, his weak legs trying to protest to no avail, he got a closer look at the man. Huh, at least he was pretty cute, in a nerdy way. Oliver had a reputation to uphold after all, he can’t just go around sleeping with all kinds of weird looking people. But with this guy, he wouldn’t mind THAT much if the press managed to get some pics of them leaving a club, as they sometimes do.    
  
Suddenly, his body reminded him of what he actually meant to do, namely finding the bathroom before doing something he will really regret. Sneaking as quietly as it was possible for him in his state (he was not looking forward to the awkward situation that was sure to come once the other woke up), he managed to escape into a quaint looking hallway, filled with pictures. He would look at them if he had the time, but right now he spotted what looked like a bathroom door to his right, and basically sprinted towards it. Which of course made his head ache flare up again, even worse than before.   
  
But he actually made it without tripping or throwing up, which in his mind was an achievement in his own right. Now he was standing in the middle of a very messy bathroom, a hamper full of clothes in the corner, with beauty products strewn everywhere. 

But Oliver’s full focus was now on the porcelain bowl, hurrying over towards it, finally being able to relieve himself. That at least took care of one of his troubles, now only his head and mouth feeling like absolute shit. But just when he was thinking that things were looking up for him, a deep nausea overtook him, and in the next second he was already leaning over the toilet, spewing up the little food that was inside his stomach. Gross, but at least it’s out now, he thought to himself.   
  
It actually made him feel a bit better, the next thing he wanted to tackle being his thirst. He didn't want to rummage around the house, trying to find the kitchen, and the tap water should suit him perfectly fine.    
Greedily drinking up almost a gallon using his hands, he finally started taking in his surroundings. It all looked very… homely. With a bra hanging from the showerstall, and three toothbrushes next to the sink, it was very likely that nerd-boy wasn’t living by himself. Speaking of, now that he was feeling halfway human, he did need to have that conversation with him. After all, he was still in his underwear, and couldn’t see his clothes or wallet anywhere earlier in the room.

Actually thinking about it, it is pretty weird that the other guy was fully dressed, and not even in the bed, while he was out cold sleeping in his underwear. And he still couldn’t remember a damn thing after getting into the club, much less meeting a cute nerd there. Did the guy maybe drug him and take… advantage of him?? He found that pretty hard to believe, with how scrawny the dude was looking, but you can never judge a person from that. Maybe he’s a secret pervert, and did all kinds of fucked up shit with him after filling with him up with drugs?

Well, he was 100% sure if that was the case, he could beat that dude up in a fight, easily. But in the much more likely case there was a more logical explanation for all this, he’s going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Doesn’t mean he will be nice about it though.   
  


Not concerned with being stealthy anymore, Oliver marches back to the room he apparently spent the night in, expecting the other man to have woken up by the noise by now. But the guy was a very deep sleeper, somehow able to stay unconscious while being in what looks like to Oliver the most uncomfortable position to fall asleep in.

“Hey, sleepy head.” Oliver says in a not so quiet voice. Still, no reaction. Oliver rolls his eyes, being slightly annoyed, the hangover meaning that his patience was already running thin. Walking up to him, he started vigorously shaking the other man’s shoulder. Who then had the gall to just shake him off, turning his head away! It would be almost cute if it wasn’t so annoying to him right now. But he had enough of this, so he spoke up:“Hey you, creepy kidnapper, what the fuck did you do with my clothes.”

It was almost comical how fast he woke up from that, staring at him with wide open eyes. Oliver just looked back judgmentally, raising one eyebrow at him. It seemed like the man was ready to try to speak, when his eyes drifted downwards, going over Oliver’s still mostly naked body. A blush overtook his lithe features, his mouth snapping shut, before quickly turning his head to the side. Now this Oliver was could work with, he was used to people being flustered around him

But still, right now the thing he wanted was answers, and the young man in front of him seemed to have stopped working from looking at his sculpted body. “My clothes, dipshit, where are they?”, an annoyed tinge in his voice. That snapped the other out of it, making him scramble to get up from his position, almost bumping into Oliver, who was still leaning over him.

Barry was looking at the buff and angry looking man in front of him, having no idea what was going on. Right now he only knew that his back was hurting like hell, and there was a stranger in his bedroom demanding answers. That’s when he remembered everything that happened last night, including him just falling asleep instead of helping the other man, like he was planning on doing. But he never really thought about what he was going to do when the stranger woke up.

“I.. i dont know?” he managed to stammer out, his answer obviously not very satisfying to the man, who took a step forward, crowding into Barry’s space. “Seriously, I have no idea, i just found you like that, laying on the street.” That seemed to give the scary stranger at least some pause, mulling over his statement.   
  
What the fuck kind of answer was that, he just found Oliver in the middle of the street, and decided to what, just take him home? Oliver knows bullshit when he hears  it , and that just makes no sense. “So if what you’re saying is true, that means you just saw me lying somewhere, and then just take me for yourself?” His voice got louder at the ending, his body still moving forward, forcing his kidnapper to lean back over the bed.   
  
Oh god, what did Barry get himself into, he feels like he’s about to get beat up. Hopefully he can somehow dissuade him from any physical violence against him. “No...What?? No, I would never… .I just, couldn’t leave you there, lying on the street, waiting to be run over by a car!” A little bit of force started going into his voice at the end of that, his body now not getting pushed back anymore.   
  
Oliver was surprised at the sudden resistance, having expected for the other to just submit to his anger. Also at the statement, was he really just passed out on the street? Honestly, it’s not very hard for him to believe that he would do something stupid like that, if he was really out of it. But still, the rest was hard to believe. “So you just carried me all the way to your house? Why didn’t you just drag me off the street into an alley, like a normal person?”   
  
NONE of this was anywhere close to normal to Barry, but the man did have a point. Maybe it was a bit weird that he just carried a drugged up man to his bed. But he wasn’t thinking about that yesterday, he was too busy thinking about how to help him. “Well, I was planning on looking you over… wait, NOT like that.” Barry was really bad at this, whatever this was. “I mean, I wanted to check you out… MEDICALLY.” He shouted after a short pause, after realizing what he just said. “But after carrying you all the way here, I just kinda… collapsed i guess?” He doesn’t know why he phrased it as a question, something about how the other man is staring him down intimidatingly with those very striking eyes, just made him very unsure of everything.   
  
Oliver actually backed off after that, quietly chuckling to himself. Someone who was that awkward and flustered by him couldn’t have done what he feared happened yesterday. Instead, he decided to believe him for, his body language fully switching gears. Instead of looking scary and intimidating, he got into an almost modellike pose, showing off all his best assets, an easy smile on his lips. “So, can i know the name of my ‘heroic saviour’?” he asks with a slightly teasing tone.   
  
Barry was getting whiplash from this conversation, one second it seemed he was about to be beat up and the next it looked like the man was… flirting? With him?? He had no idea how to respond to that, except for just answering the question. “Uhhh, my name is…”   
  
“Barry? Are you in your room? ” They could both hear a woman shouting downstairs, having just entered through the front door. Barry just closed his eyes out of exasperation, Iris having chosen the worst possible moment to come home after her sleepover. He had no idea how he could explain what was going on (even HE didn’t have a clue what was going on), so instead he tried to come up with a solution that didn’t involve Iris seeing the man in his underwear that was standing in his room.   
  
“Yeah, I'm just getting changed, just wait a second.” He shouted towards the door, before turning back towards his guest. “I’m … really sorry for this, but could you maybe go hide in the closet? I really don’t want her to see you,” he pleaded with the man, grabbing him by his still naked arm, and pulled him towards his small walk-in closet. Or more like trying to pull him, since he wasn’t moving an inch.   
  
Oliver didn’t know if he should feel amused or insulted by the request, settling on a mixture. “I don’t hide in closets, thank you very much.” He was Oliver Queen after all, and hiding in someone's closet like he was some kind of dirty secret was just so far beneath him. Instead he crossed his arms, watching as Barry desperately tries to move him, to no avail. “Are you sure you are the one who carried me all the way here? It’s hard to believe from how much you’re struggling right now.” That earned him a stink eye, the other man (Barry?) finally realizing it was futile trying to get him to move. Instead he runs towards the door, locking it before the woman (his girlfriend?) can get in.

Barry was so screwed. He knows that if Iris finds out what’s going on, she will never let him live it down. He would have a very hard time explaining why there was an almost naked (and admittedly gorgeous) man in his bedroom, and even the truth just sounds like a made-up story. But for now he was safe, the door locked, the only problem now dealing with the man he still didn’t even know the name of. He had bigger issues after all, like Iris’s footsteps very clearly coming towards his room, trying to open the door.

“Barry? C’mon, there’s nothing of you i haven’t seen before, we need to have a talk about what happened yesterday.” The rattling at the doorknob continued, Iris not wanting to let up. 

“Just give me a minute alright? I’ll be right out.” And with that the rattling stopped, relief flowing through 

Barry, turning back to his main problem after averting this crisis. “Alright, i need to get you out of here without her noticing, she would not…” And that’s when he could hear the door unlocking behind him, all the blood draining from his face in an instant.   
  
“You do remember that this used to be my room right? I still had a spare key in… Oh.” Iris interrupted her sentence after fully opening the door, and seeing that Barry was not alone at all. But she never would have guessed to meet Oliver Queen in person, and even less in these unforeseen circumstances.   
  
“Why is Oliver Queen naked in your bedroom, Bear,” her voice deceptively calm, only a slight tremor hinting at her disbelief. She was expecting Barry trying to mask that he came home far too late, not… this. And… oh wow, his body somehow looks even better than in the magazines, somehow. Iris didn’t even realize she has been staring until the celebrity cleared his throat, ripping her out of it,   
  
“Well, it’s a funny story actu…. Wait, you know him?” Barry actually had no idea what he was gonna say, so he was pretty glad he can instead focus on why Iris knows this random man he found on the street.   
  
“Bear, you’re kidding. This is Oliver Queen! The hot billionaire! I told you about him before, he’s in so many of my magazines. I even told you he’s in my list of men i would..” Belatedly, she realized that Oliver could hear every word she’s saying, and stopped before embarrassing herself even more.   
  
“Oh no please, tell me about this list. What would you do with me?” Oliver’s smiled seemed sincere. But on the inside he was having far too much fun messing with these two. It was just far too easy. And from the looks of it, the woman seemed far more receptive to his charms. “I didn’t realize Barry had such an enchanting girlfriend.” That statement immediately ruffled both of them, quick to deny it.   
  
“Oh no, she’s not my..”   
“Yeah, Barry is not my boyfriend. I'm totally, absolutely single. No attachments at all.” Iris was putting on her most flirty smile, the one Barry had seen her practice in front of the mirror in eight grade when she had that crush on her classmate. Barry couldn’t help the pang of jealousy, seeing how Iris was so obviously trying to flirt with someone right in front of him. Of course, she had no idea about his crush on her, but it still hurt. He needed to put a stop to this.   
  
“Yeah, we just live here together, best friends and all that.” The statement seemed to make Iris remember of the fact that this was Barry’s room, and that he tried to hide a naked Oliver Queen from her here. She kept looking in between them, you could almost hear the gears turning in her head, before turning a soft look towards her best friend.   
  
“Barry, I never realized that you were…. Interested in that.” She cringed at her own choice of words, realizing that this probably wasn’t a conversation to have in front of Barry’s “friend’. They were going to have a talk about that after all this.   
  
For a moment Barry was confused, before realizing what Iris means with that. “What? No, i'm not… Well, I'm not sure yet entirely, there have been some… But wait no, nothing happened, i didn't sleep with this guy.” His rambling getting louder and louder, before he almost shouts the last part.

Oliver was amused at how Barry was just digging himself into a deeper hole, but felt no obligation to help him. “That’s what you say at least. I was unconscious the whole time, you could have done anything with my body,” expecting Barry to scramble to deny the claim.   
  
Surprisingly, it’s Iris who jumps to his defense:”Barry would NEVER do anything of the sort, he’s a good guy. Right, Bear?” Barry just nods at her, having no clue how he was supposed to answer that. “But seriously, if nothing happened between you two, then why ARE you in here, in your underwear?” She turns her gaze back to Oliver, this time a lot more inquisitive than flirty.

Oliver puts his hands up defensively, somehow feeling under pressure now. “Hey, don't ask me, i passed out on the street and woke up here an hour ago. Ask ‘Bear’ what happened,” The nickname said with obvious ridicule.

Iris looks back towards her friend, just arching an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. Which Barry then promptly gives, explaining everything that happened after he left the lab yesterday. Seeing Iris’s messages (he gives her an apologetic look at that part), seeing someone on the street, his phone dying, and his decision to carry the man back here. Iris is actually quite impressed, she knows that Main Street is quite a walk away, and for Barry to be able to carry all that for that long, he must’ve had some serious determination.   
  
“... but when i finally managed to climb the stairs and put him in my bed, i didn’t even manage check him over medically like i planned to, and just passed out on the floor. And i woke up like 10 minutes before you came, so I didn't really get to explain everything to Oliver. But yeah, now here we are.” Barry finished his long winded rant that probably didn’t need to be as detailed as it was. He just wanted to make sure there were no more misunderstandings.

  
  


Oliver had sat back down on the bed halfway through the story, since already knew most of it anyway, and was still having a major hangover. He just zoned out at the end, thinking about what the fuck he should do now. His clothes, wallet and phone were gone, and no one knew where he even was right now. Which means he had to do something he really hates: ask for help.

He realized that it has been quiet for a while, and looking up the pair was looking at him expectantly, waiting for… something. “What”, he snapped at them, breaking his charming mask for a moment. 

The girl clearly looked clearly appalled, and was about to say something that probably wasn’t going to be nice. But before she could, Barry intervened:” We we’re asking if you feel like you need to go to the hospital, you were really effed up yesterday. How are you feeling right now?”

“Except for a raging hangover, i’m feeling just peachy So no hospitals.” Hospitals would also mean that his mother would learn of what had happened, if she didn’t already. And he really doesn’t want to have to sit through another one of her lectures.   
  
“But actually, there’s something else I need, from you. I need some clothes, and to call someone. I do need to leave, and I would be far too distracting if i went out like this.” Oliver gestures down at his body, drawing both of the others gazes towards,   
  
Barry manages to catch himself first,looking back up. “Yeah sure, i can just give you some of my older clothes, if you don't mind that they’re not brand name clothes.” He walks towards his closet, trying to find any shirts without nerdy jokes on them (to no avail).   
  
“I think I'll live, thanks. And for the phone?” Now that Barry’s attention was elsewhere, Iris fixed a hard stare on the billionaire currently in her house. Now that the surprise of finding him here has worn of, she has gotten wary of him being here. Oliver, never one to back down from a challenge, stares right back with an emotionless face.   
  
Barry, who was still oblivious to all this, just shouted over his back:”My phone should be right on the nightstand, no password.” He was still desperately trying to find something that wasn’t too embarassing, to no avail, all his somewhat normal clothes where in his neglected hamper.   
  
Iris gave up on her stare-duel with Oliver to throw an exasperated look at the back of Barry’s head. She knew that Barry always tries to as helpful and nice as possible, but this was too much even for him. The other man hadn’t even said please, and Barry was still bending over backwards. But she didn’t want to stir up unnecessary drama, so she just let it be.   
  
Oliver on the other hand, who was used to people just doing everything for him, just looked for the unlocked phone, picking it up from the table. He knew Tommy’s number by heart, and shot him a short message saying that he’s alright, and to meet at the coffee shop they were at yesterday soon. After some thought, he also added his own number under contacts. He wasn’t sure why, but something about Barry intrigued him, and he wanted to see what the man would do.

Finally Barry found the least weird clothes, which still were not very good. The pants were fins, just some old jeans. The shirt on the other hand.. “Sorry, the rest are even worse than this.” Oliver takes the clothes, before inspecting the  [ shirt ](https://image.spreadshirtmedia.com/image-server/v1/mp/products/T812A2MPA3140PT17X70Y47D1023666360FS2187/views/1,width=550,height=550,appearanceId=2,backgroundColor=F2F2F2,modelId=115,crop=list,version=1564376579,modelImageVersion=1564482842/cute-chemistry-element-science-nerd-pun-mens-premium-t-shirt.jpg) , looking at it incredulously. “It was a gift alright, it’s better than nothing,'' Barry feeling the need to defend himself.   
  
“It’s … whatever, it’s a shirt. It will do.” He throws the clothes, which were pretty tight on his muscular frame. He had to really get going now though, Tommy was already on his way towards the shop.   
“Alright then, i have somewhere to be now. I’m sure i’ll be seeing you, ‘Bear’ “, making it sound like an insult and a nickname at the same time. And with that, he rushes down the stairs, and is out of the house before anyone else can react.   
  
“Wow, he didn’t even say thank you, what a douche. Have to admit, he’s somehow pulling of that shirt.” Iris, having watched Oliver walk out. She couldn’t help looking at how the muscles moved behind under that very tight shirt, but she wasn’t about discuss that with Barry. They had much more important things to talk about after all.   
  
“So, should i tell Dad that you also need a talk about how you shouldn’t bring strange men into the house? I’m still scarred from when i got it in 10th grade, and it’s only fair.” She hoped that this would be a gentle entry into the convo they were about to have.   
  
Barry just face planted onto his own bed, which had a peculiar smell.  _ Oliver, _ he thought, feeling an emotion he couldn't really describe,   
  
“Could we not do this right now? I had a very long night, as you now know.” He knew what was about to come, Iris was far too perceptive for her own good.   
  
“Bear, you know you can talk to me about everything, right? I’m… sorry about earlier, i was just very surprised. But I want you to know that I will love and accept you no matter what your ‘interests’ are.”   
  
Barry just groaned against the mattress: ”I already told you, nothing like  _ that _ happened. Can we just drop it?”   
  
“Yes i know. But still, i want you to know im here for you.” Barry did let it slide that he wasn’t totally sure about his sexuality, but she wasn’t going to press him even more than she already did.   
  
“You should get some actual sleep on your bed now, after all that. I’m going to whip up some pancakes for when you wake up.” She gave his back a slight rub, before walking out, quietly closing the door behind her.   
  
Barry, who now really got hit by his tiredness, didn’t take long to fall asleep, the unique smell still surrounding him. It made him have some… interesting dreams.   
  
When he woke up to the smell of burnt pancakes, he vividly remembers all of them, and how they all featured a certain someone.   
  
“Fuck.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Im planning on writing a chapter atleast every week, so see you soon i hope.


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